


Genre

by LordHyper



Category: Original Work
Genre: Canon - Video Game, Gen, Personifications, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordHyper/pseuds/LordHyper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which personified game genres and companies engage in shenanigans. (As usual, cross-posted from my HyperInuyasha fanfiction.net account.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Voice

_**Author's Note:**  Ah, this is such a weird thing to be seeing from me. A story with personifications of game genres? You're weird Hyper, you complete dumbass. Well, I decided to go with it anyway._

* * *

**_Genre_ **

_a dumb thing by **HyperInuyasha**_

* * *

**_1:_ ** _Interactive Fiction in:_ **_The Voice_ **

Interactive Fiction was a strange man. From birth, he had an incurable blindness; he wandered through the dark, avoiding grues, thieves and the like. He never knew what he actually looks like, but from what he heard from the other genres, he looks pretty damn good.

Unless they were lying. Which they probably were. Interactive didn't know what was true-or-false; only the Voice knew.

Oh yes, the Voice probably should have been mentioned first. Much more strange than blindness.

**You wake up alone in a BED, having OVERSLEPT. To your left is a BEDSTAND with your ALARM on top of it, which went off 20 minutes ago. If you get out of BED and go directly forward, you'll enter the LIVING ROOM...**

That damn Voice. Always been with him. Always inside his head. Always talking. Some people, like Puzzle, theorized that his other senses have ascended so much that he could hear a voice nobody else can hear; everybody else just thought that Interactive Fiction was a blind weirdo.

Sometimes, the Voice told him where these offenders were. They quickly received a punch to the gut, or wherever he punched them anyway. He really appreciated that.

He decided to appease the voice and left the bed. He briefly felt his own body...

**You EXAMINE YOURSELF...**

"Oh, will you not..." Interactive Fiction said to the source of the Voice. As helpful and guiding as the Voice was, it was a complete pain, as it always narrates his actions, with details included (some of them annoyingly lengthy). As always, the Voice just prattled on.

**You're wearing a PLAIN T-SHIRT with SWEATPANTS. Oddly, you weren't wearing these clothes LAST NIGHT...**

Another mystery of his Interactive Fiction's life: somebody's been taking care of him. The Voice always directed him to a fresh plate of breakfast and vital supplies were mysteriously refilled.

Also, somebody apparently regularly redresses him in the middle of the night.

Creepy.

He felt his way around the bed until he felt the wooden frame at the front of the bed. Using that as reference, he walked straight ahead through the door.

**You are now in your LIVING ROOM, which is joined with a KITCHEN. Ahead of you is a WALL-**

Interactive Fiction slammed into the wall and fell down on the soft carpet (which felt clean; as if somebody vacuumed). "You could have told me sooner."

**You are now ANNOYED.**

"Thanks."

**You are currently in your LIVING ROOM. If you hug the WALL and GO RIGHT, you'll enter the KITCHEN. If you hug the WALL and GO LEFT, you'll find the FRONT DOOR. If you 90 DEGREES TO THE LEFT and GO FORWARD, you'll find your COUCH. Your PHONE sits on a little table next to it.**

The man caught a scent of something. It smelled absolutely delicious.

**You are smelling a PLATE OF PANCAKES on the KITCHEN COUNTER. It already has MAPLE SYRUP and BUTTER piled on.**

Interactive Fiction scuttled in like a bug, drawn in by the pancakes. There it was... he could not see it, but he could smell it, and boy, could he imagine the taste...

**You do not have the UTENSILS REQUIRED (FORK AND KNIFE) to eat the PANCAKES!**

"..." the blind man reached toward the pancakes with his hand...

**You cannot EAT PANCAKES with YOUR BARE HANDS. YOUR HANDS would get STICKY!**

"..."

**Your ANNOYANCE LEVEL has INCREASED!**

The cursed guy huffed. It was now the time of day where he was unfortunately forced to engage in weird puzzle nonsense. "Where are the utensils?"

**There are THREE DRAWERS in FRONT OF YOU. The UTENSILS are IN ONE OF THEM.**

He swiped his hands below the kitchen counter and found the drawer handles. He pulled open the middle drawer first...

**There is NOTHING in the MIDDLE DRAWER.**

The personified genre tried the one on the very left - he was shocked to discover that it was locked.

**The LEFT DRAWER is LOCKED.**

"Why."

**Your ANNOYANCE LEVEL has INCREASED!**

Maintaining his patience, he opened the (thankfully unlocked) right drawer.

**There is a PILE OF FORKS and a PILE OF METAL OBJECTS inside the RIGHT DRAWER.**

Interactive Fiction actually gasped in joy as he grabbed fork. Oh, the pancakes have tempted his heightened senses so much...

**You cannot EAT PANCAKES without a KNIFE.**

"AAAARGH!"

**Your ANNOYANCE LEVEL is now at MAX!**

Interactive Fiction was pissed at his life. At his blindness. At the Voice. At the puzzle shit. He honestly suspects that the person who takes care of him pulls these kinds of things to test him, so that he may one day do things on his own.

They're really lousy tests.

However, some of his anger subsided; he was really curious about the pile of metal that was with the forks, for whatever reason. He dug his hands into the drawer again, curiosity replacing some of his rage.

**You SEARCH the PILE OF METAL OBJECTS.**

Aha!

**You find a KEY.**

As tedious as these puzzles were, Interactive Fiction felt really great inside after solving one. It made him feel accomplished. It made him feel like a genius. It made him feel like anyone that's not a blind man with an omniscient Voice following him everywhere.

He fumbled around with the key, trying to get it in the lock of the unsearchable drawer. Finally, it went in, and he felt ecstatic.

**This is not the KEY to the LEFT DRAWER!**

"Fuck."

...

**MINUTES have PASSED. You are now CONTENT, SITTING on THE FLOOR. YOUR HANDS are STICKY. Your CARETAKER is sure to be DISAPPOINTED.**

"Worth it."

* * *

_**Author's Note:**  And with that, the first chapter of this thing is done! For the time being, Interactive Fiction's caretaker will be anonymous: is it another genre? Perhaps Puzzle, who was mentioned earlier? It's still a mystery. Especially since I've introduced nobody else._

_...Welp, hope you liked the chapter. Please give reviews to tell me praise, grievances, and/or death threats._


	2. An Average Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A terrified man stands in his closet. As it so happens, today is 4/13. (Happy 4/13 Homestucks.)

_**2:**  Survival Horror in:  **An Average Morning**_

* * *

Survival Horror woke up at 5:30 AM, in his closet bedroom. The mattress alone took up most of the small space, with a metal trunk shoved underneath. All necessary precautions, of course.

"What do you have for me today, house?" he said in a jittery voice. He ran his hand through his hair - blonde and unkempt - wondering what surprise awaited him outside of the closet today.

Being the representative of horror games, Survival Horror was easily the worst off out of all the genres, having had feelings of paranoia instilled in him for his whole life. His home definitely didn't help matters; his house was his own personal Silent Hill, constantly morphing into a different form and throwing something horrible at him. Only the closet was safe. Always safe.

Now that he was awake, it was time to leave the house. He always eats out or at a friend's house, as everything in his home was untrustworthy. First, to gather some supplies.

He pulled the chest out from under the bed and opened it; various items were stored inside, carefully arranged to fit as many things inside as possible. Horror looked at himself in a hand mirror, making sure that his pale face hasn't transformed into something horrible like a beetle overnight. Relieved that he wasn't reliving some Metamorphosis-type shit, he pulled out a long black coat from the box and threw it around his plain blue pajamas. Horror then picked up his wallet, his cell phone, and most importantly, a Beretta pistol. He scrapped up the meager ammo that was inside the container, reloaded his gun, and gulped.

"B-bring it on, house!" he shouted as he kicked the closet door open.

Today, his residence took up metal floors and walls, all of them rusting. On the other side of the room was the front door - looks too easy. Horror darted his eyes up. He only saw a low-hanging lightbulb.

He breathed with relief. Today, nothing will get the jump on him.

Horror strode across the room unhindered. However, he felt something erupting in him as he neared the door.

The feeling of dread seized him.

He was in front of the door.

His hand wrapped around the doorknob.

He sweated, apprehensive.

Then

he

turned it...

The door was locked.

Another breath of relief. Was this all the house could do to him today? Lock him in his own home?

Haha..

Ahahahaha-

Oh right, now he can't leave.

The pale man looked around for something that could get the door open. No keys were in sight, nor any places where a key could be hidden. He didn't have his own key for the house, as it could protect itself (pretty much the only positive of living in this paranoia-inducing hole). He felt his hand grip around his pistol and the answer was so obvious. The gun strode out of his pocket and pointed at the doorknob. Horror pulled the trigger.

BANG!

A flash.

And then nothing. The door was unaffected by the shot.

Welp. Time to call for help.

* * *

Puzzle slammed the Sudoku puzzle on the table in triumph, having solved it effortlessly. She sighed in a satisfied matter as she laid down on her couch. Perhaps she'll watch television later. Or play Tetris. Or maybe get a new piece of Victorian-esque furniture for her modern home...

RING RING

Or maybe have a chat with one of the other genres. That works too.

* * *

"Hello?" she answered in her almost quiet voice.

"PUZZLE, I'M TRAPPED IN MY HOUSE, HELP!"

Ah yes, her dear friend, Survival Horror. He was no stranger to puzzles himself, but he always made a call to her when things got a little too hot to handle. "What is it, Horror? Can't find the exit?"

"N-no! I can see the front door just fine! It's just locked, and I can't find the blasted key!"

"Shhh, settle down. Now, have you looked at all your possibilities? Every puzzle has an answer, you know."

"I did look everywhere, I can't..." Survival Horror diverted his eyes toward the ceiling.

They widened in fear.

There was a man with a burlap sack on his head. His neck was tied in the ropes that held up the lightbulb, hanging him.

That wasn't there before.

He was understandably worried. "P-PUZZLE!"

"Yes?"

"THERE'S SUDDENLY A BODY BEING HUNG IN MY LIVING ROOM!"

"Oh. That's... terrible. I'm sorry to hear that. It must clash horribly with the interior design of your house."

"T-TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY!"

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to calm you down with some humor." the girl on the other end of the phone sighed. "Well... chances are, the key to the front door is on the dead body that your eldritch location house spawned."

Horror audibly gulped, to the pity of Puzzle. "I'm not going to enjoy this."

"Surely, you must be used to it by now?"

"Yes... b-but..."

"Horror, you can do this, I believe you can!" she chirped. "How about I pick you up and bring you somewhere happier and cheerful as a reward? Play a co-op game, perhaps?"

The man felt a bit at ease. "Y...yes. That'd be nice..."

"Right. I'll see you soon. Good luck with your house problem." Puzzle hung up, leaving Horror alone with the dead body.

He stared up at the hanged man. It was likely that it'd come to life as soon as it came down.

Survival Horror tried to put up and courageous face.

He pointed his gun up toward the rope.

Then he fired.

CRACK!

The body and the lightbulb fell toward the metallic floor as the rope was split...

THUD - SHATTER!

The body crushed the lightbulb under it and the room was submerged into darkness.

Horror held his cell phone out like a flashlight.

He pointed it at the body to illuminate it.

The body started to stir.

Survival Horror mustered his courage and pointed the Beretta at it.

BOOM!

Blood gushed from the body's head as it slumped back down.

You lose again, house.

Horror stepped toward the body cautiously. He saw a glint shining on its belt - the key. He reached his hand toward it...

"Oh wait." confident that nothing else will get him, he fired a second round into the body's head.

Necessary precaution.

Survival Horror victoriously took the key from the dead for real body and went back to the door; he kept the body in the corner of his eye as he unlocked the door...

He stepped outside.

It was an ordinary day outside, with a small breeze blowing as the sun shined through the clouds. The NPCs milled around in the suburban neighborhood, paying no attention to the sentient genre. He took a look at his own house; it was a perfectly normal house on the outside, which fit in with the local area.

Down the road, he could see the entrance to the Forest. His side of the Forest had a fog within it.

He thought he saw a pair of red eyes staring from the darkness at him.

He shivered.

The man closed the door behind him as he walked down the paved path to the sidewalk, shielding his eyes with his coat from the rays of the sun. He wildly glanced around at the NPCs. You never know what they might be capable of.

Then, an old-looking car rolled down the street and stopped in front of his house. Before he could point his Beretta at it, the windows rolled down, revealing Puzzle, smiling at him. Her black hair was bunched up with a bowler hat atop it. Her face was young and jovial, but behind her eyes was a brilliant seriousness. "I see that you're alive."

"For now." he said, half-jokingly, half-seriously. He got in the other front seat with the girl, and he could see that she was wearing a serviceable, formal suit.

"Where should we go?" Puzzle asked. "I heard that Action-Adventure set up some archery game in the Forest."

Survival Horror whimpered. "I'd rather not go in there."

"If you say so."

"How... about we go out and play Dance Dance Revolution?"

"Dance Dance Revolution?"

"Yes. Seems safe enough."

"Are you sure? You might trip and break your leg." she teased.

"...R-really?"

"Relax. It was just another attempt at humor."

"...You're not that funny..."

"...I know I'm not." she admitted as she started to drive, bringing them as far away from Horror's nightmare house as possible.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**  Check it out, we've got two more characters and vague setting details. Fun for the whole family._


End file.
